Sometimes the best ideas arrive when you’re stuck in place. Angie Green-Hill was flat on her back with a broken foot when she decided to find a way to give back to the mental health program that had pulled her through some of her darkest days.
That quiet moment of gratitude became a decade-long fundraising effort. Now, after raising more than $127,500 for Orillia Soldiers’ Memorial Hospital’s mental health department, Green-Hill is preparing to close the curtain on her annual Mental Health Online Auction.
“This is going to be the last one,” she said recently.
The auction has become a fixture in Orillia’s community calendar. What began as a modest Facebook initiative has evolved into a large-scale fundraiser powered almost entirely by local goodwill. Green-Hill launched it after completing OSMH’s mental health day program, an experience she credits with giving her the tools to rebuild her life.
“They really saved my life,” she told reporters. “They taught me how to breathe through things, how to cope with stress.”
Recovery left her with a deep sense of obligation. While sidelined with her injury, she asked herself what she could do. The answer was clear: support the sixth-floor program that had supported her.
What followed was a steady climb. Donations rolled in from businesses and residents across the region. During the COVID-19 pandemic, the auction hit its fundraising peak, bringing in roughly $22,000 in a single year.
“People out of the woodwork I’ve never even heard of were donating,” Green-Hill recalled.
The surge reflected something broader than charity fatigue might suggest. Mental health, long shadowed by stigma, was becoming a cause people felt safe rallying behind. Green-Hill saw that shift play out in real time.
“I’m really proud of our community for stepping up when you mention mental health,” she said. “There’s still that stigma.”
Yet even with strong community support, Green-Hill said the decision to step away comes down to economics. Asking small businesses for donations has become harder as costs rise and margins shrink.
“I find it harder and harder and harder to ask people for donations,” she explained. “I know how hard it is, so I have a really hard time asking for donations.”
Still, longtime supporters have continued to show up without being asked. Some have been with her since day one, pledging sponsorships year after year. That loyalty has kept the auction alive, even as the broader fundraising landscape has shifted.
Green-Hill has always insisted on transparency. At a recent hospital luncheon, she was walked through how auction funds have been spent. The tour mattered to her.
“They showed me where the money is going and, to me, that’s what I love,” she said.
The funds have touched nearly every corner of the mental health department. Recreation programming, exercise equipment, and patient scrubs that offer more dignity than standard-issue gowns have all been purchased with auction proceeds. Crisis spaces in the emergency department have been expanded. Music therapy and pet therapy programs have been launched.
“Pet therapy — that didn’t happen when I was there,” Green-Hill said. “Now, it’s huge.”
Music therapy has also taken root. Green-Hill speaks about it with visible pride.
“It’s extremely fantastic. I helped do that. That’s pretty cool,” she said.
For someone who once struggled to manage anxiety attacks, the progress is personal. She still uses the coping skills she learned in the day program. Breathing techniques. Step-by-step strategies for managing stress. Tools that have become part of her daily life.
“I can breathe through an anxiety attack now,” she said. “I have coping skills. I know the steps.”
Revisiting the hospital or hearing about new initiatives brings those memories rushing back. The gratitude hasn’t faded. Neither has the connection to the people still moving through the program she once completed.
When asked what she would say to her younger, struggling self, Green-Hill’s answer was simple.
“Keep going. Hang in there. This, too, shall pass.”
For the final auction, she has set an ambitious target: $22,500, which would push the 10-year total to an even $150,000. She admits she’s not entirely confident about hitting the number, but she’s learned not to underestimate her community.
“I’m not confident. Not whatsoever,” she said with a laugh. “But, you never know.”
This year’s lineup will include gift cards, services, experiences, and specialty items donated by local businesses and residents. Some contributors have been involved since the beginning. Others are joining for the first time.
“I’ve got some good ones up my sleeve,” Green-Hill teased.
The auction will run from May 4 at 3 p.m. to May 11 at 6 p.m., with bidding handled through the event’s Facebook page. It’s a familiar format by now, one that has worked reliably over the years.
But while the auction itself is ending, Green-Hill made clear that her involvement in mental health fundraising is not.
“I’m not going to quit fundraising,” she said. “I’ll think of something different for next year.”
What that something will be remains to be seen. Green-Hill didn’t offer specifics, only the assurance that she’s not walking away from the cause. Mental health support in Orillia still needs champions, and she’s not done being one of them.
The auction’s closure reflects a reality many community organizers face. Volunteer-driven initiatives require constant energy, creativity, and the willingness to ask for help. After a decade, Green-Hill has earned the right to step back and reassess.
But the impact will outlast the event. The programs funded by the auction—pet therapy, music therapy, crisis spaces, patient dignity initiatives—are now woven into the hospital’s mental health infrastructure. They’ll continue serving patients long after the final bid is placed.
For Green-Hill, that legacy is enough. She started with a broken foot and an idea. She’s ending with a community that showed up, year after year, to support people they’ll likely never meet.
That’s the kind of tradition worth celebrating, even as it comes to a close.
